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Yesterday morning I had to do one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life…

I drove for 3 hours 200 miles in the opposite direction my heart wanted to go in.  It was the single most painful thing I’ve ever done…but I’m sure it won’t be the last.

If anyone has ever been in a long-distance relationship, I’m sure you know exactly what I’m talking about.  It was all I could do to keep the car heading where I knew I had to go…all I wanted to do was turn the car around, drive back to his house and jump back into his strong, secure arms.

But, this is all part of growing up, and I have to be a big girl now and deal with it.

Right now, I’m dealing with it by listening to his Goo Goo Dolls Greatest Hits CD and crying like a freakin’ baby typing this thing up.

Hold on, before it’s too late, we’ll run til we leave this behind…
Stand on the edge with me, hold back your fear and see nothing is real til it’s gone.

Chatting on Facebook one night I expressed to him worries that I shouldn’t even be worrying about, sticking true to my nature of course.  He told me something that night that I’ve been clinging onto for comfort and to serve as a reminder to me…

Come back down to earth with me.
It’s all going to be all right.

God knows I needed to hear that.  He hates when I can’t stand to be away from him…but it just takes me a few days to adjust.  At least this time it’s easier; I’m getting used to the fact that Knoxville isn’t his home right now.

I guess now would be a good time to tell our story, from my perspective at least…I wish I could tell it from his point of view—he’s a much better story-teller than I am.

It all started last November when I ended my 2 year relationship with a previous boyfriend.  Rob and I were in the same French class, and we had chatted a few times after class and on Facebook, so we were decently good friends before we dated.

One night I invited him over to work on homework and bake cookies… according to him, we “found each other the sweeter sight.”  He’s right.

Our first kiss happened that night, too.  We were sitting on the couch, and having finished our hot chocolate and pumpkin cookies long ago, continued our conversation that started as soon as he walked in and my guard was down.  I was hugging a pillow close to me, and he noticed that I was doing so.  He was quite the smooth operator, leaned over to me and said he usually cuddles with people.  I, being the innocent naive one, allowed him to take the pillow from me and put his arm around me.  We started holding hands as our heads continuously got closer, and then we looked up at each other.

He kissed me, and my feet haven’t touched the floor since.

Oh, that man… I’m telling you it scares me…it scares me to death.  I can’t think of anyone else that I’ve been so attached to, where the moment we part for a long time I feel like a part of me is missing, where as soon as I see his face my heart skips a beat…

I’d give up forever to touch you, because I know that you feel me somehow.
You’re the closest to Heaven that I’ll ever be, and I don’t want to go home right now.
I just don’t want to miss you tonight…

It hurts.  I’m not going to lie…but I think it’ll make me a stronger person.  I never knew what it felt like for my roommate to do the same thing I had to do, but for an entire year.  At least he’ll be back in August.  If I can last that long, then I think I’ll be OK.

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No, not Twilight.  Vampire romances never bit me.  I’m talking about an awkward teen in England that goes by Georgia Nicholson.

She shaved her eyebrows, went to a party dressed as a stuffed olive, but most importantly she taught me to laugh at my own self more while comforting me that I’m not the only person in the world that confides in my cat because that’s the only one that can understand me (sometimes, at least… sometimes even the cat can be heartless… does that make sense to anyone?).  She taught me the terms “sex god,” “have the painters in,” and “how’s your father,” and ultimately helped me to feel less awkward around guys.

I rediscovered my love (not of the lesbian kind, but one similar to a “man-crush”—I have a wonderful boyfeller) for Georgia when my English professor gave us an assignment to imitate an author of our choice, as long as the chosen author didn’t write poetry or plays.  It took me a while to decide on the perfect author for me—people threw out suggestions like Fitzgerald, Hunter S. Thompson and John Updike—but then a comment from an old friend on facebook reminded me (indirectly) of Louise Rennison, who wrote the series “Confessions of Georgia Nicholson,” and the first book is titled Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging.

This character, although fictional, is probably my “twin.”  Please, just find the book and read like, the opening page.  You’ll see why I say she’s my alter-ego.  We share so many similarities, except I suppose I’m a more mature version of her.

Georgia experienced seriously awkward moments in her life while she was growing up, and God knows I’ve had my fair share of “awkwardosity.”

She may have a 3-year-old sister that peed somewhere in her room, but my roommate has a Yorkie that can’t control her bowel movements… particularly in my room, for whatever God-forsaken reason.  She’s French-savvy (to some degree), and I struggle with it somewhat.  But I’m good with coffee.  I’m devilishly good with coffee.  In fact, I’m “double cool with knobs” when it comes to coffee.  Georgia’s so-called best friend, Jas, started a rumor that Georgia is a lesbian (which isn’t true, mind you), and my roommates nicknamed me “Shitney,” because of wonderfully awkward moments, a.k.a. dumb blonde moments, that I have from time to time.  I should probably also explain here that we have our own language called “shanguage,” that replaces the first two consonants in a word with “sh-.”  My name is Brittney.  Just think about that one a second.

So, here’s to you Georgia Nicholson.  May we meet someday in another world.

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So I’ve been wanting to blog for some time now, and I recently just posted one I started working on… Wednesday I think?

Eh, anyways, I have to say that today was a good one. Fridays always are for me. I was supposed to take an oral exam in French, but unfortunately it was postponed until next week. Unfortunately, our professor has strep throat. Which sucks. Big ones.

So, instead of butchering the eloquent French language today, my other half and I spent some time in Downtown Knoxville before he had to go to work at 4. It was fun.

The first place I took him to was J’s Mega Mart (please check out the awesome blog entry on it) on Gay Street (which is NOT where a lot of homosexuals hang out, fyi).

This place, if I may say so myself, is freaking AWESOME. They have wigs. They have extensions. They have hats (see below).

They have food, toiletries and home decor. It, in every sense of the phrase, is a mega mart. It’s a Wal-Mart not on steroids. It’s amazing. In fact, today was the second time I’ve been there this week; yesterday I went for work to compose a blog. Unfortunately, I can’t post it until I get pics on there. Meh.

{meanwhile on the farm…}

Speaking of Downtown Knoxville, I’m beginning to spend some serious quality time down there. I’ve always been a fan of old bigger cities (than Wartburg—anything bigger than Wartburg is a big city to me), but Knoxville holds a special place in my heart for sure. For years of driving on the Interstate to Dollywood from my hometown we would always go through a portion of Downtown. I can remember looking out the van window (we had an awesome ’90-something blue Dodge Caravan. Word.) and wondered if the Sunsphere was a giant golden tee-ball Knoxville won for being awesome in the sport, and then I would look longingly to be amongst the old towering buildings and perhaps someday live in Sterchi Lofts.

My fingers are crossed that I might next year. With a cat. Possibly, MAYBE, a roommate, room permitting.

{sigh}

There’s just something about Downtown Knoxville that entrances me. I’m not quite sure what it is—the atmosphere, friendly faces, art, culture, businesses, extravagance of downtown living, old buildings, walking—but it gets me hooked every time.

I just feel grown-up down there; I feel independent and like I’m finally living my dream.. or one of them at least.

Looking back just even a few years ago on my life, my thoughts, my perspectives, I can remember an earnestness, this burning desire, to be downtown somewhere, anywhere. Granted, Knoxville is NOTHING like New York City, but it still gives that home-y downtown vibe.

{epiphany}

That’s it! Eureka! Downtown Knoxville feels like home, keeps me there, because it DOES have a home-y-ness to it!

{word}

Dang it, if I’m not meant for urban, city living then dang… If I can’t afford it I’ll just take a cardboard box with me when my lease is over. That’ll work. My gym has showers.

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This makes the third time in a row tonight that I’ve listened to Coldplay‘s single “Violet Hill,” which preceded their latest title track, “Viva la Vida.”

And after reading the lyrics, I’m reminded of the plot in the 2003 movie Cold Mountain.  Two lovers meet and share one kiss before he leaves for war, only to come back for a few days to see his lover before dying, long enough to make love and carry on his family name.

How depressing.  It still lingers with me after 5 years.

“Violet Hill” bears the same story.  Bury me in honor/When I’m dead and hit the ground/A love back home unfolds… If you love me, why’d you let me go?

He doesn’t want to be fighting; he’d rather be home, with his love… I don’t want to be a soldier/Who the captain of some sinking ship/Would stow, far below…

It makes me wonder how many men fighting in Iraq feel the same way.  I know it’s a touchy subject with most, but it saddens me to think some men may be fighting against their own will, stripped away from those they love, die, and never know what could’ve been.

And I hope, they do it with honor.  If nothing else, with honor.  I respect you.

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All I want, desire, hope for this country and world is peace.  Peace brings us together; love keeps us together.

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Fitting into a place sucks. Let’s just be honest. No matter where you end up in life, you’re bound to be different and absolutely HAVE to find a way to fit in somehow, someway, without changing who you are.

Lately I’ve been reading Prep, a New York Times Bestseller that Lance had to read last year for English. When he passed it on to me, I wanted to read it, but naturally would rather be on the Internet.

A picture of what I see everydayAnyways, about a year later I’ve opened the cover to discover (like the rhyme?) that it’s hard to put down…
…and stop thinking about how I feel just like the main character. Or at least I can relate.

We’ve all been in that position…

…new town, new school, new people

It’s intimidating, especially if you’re from a small mid-western town moving to the East Coast to attend a boarding school the last four years before college. To make matters worse, let’s throw in the money aspect, you know, the hierarchy where whoever is the prettiest with the most money gets it all.

That’s how I felt when I came to college, minus the high school part (I’ve already been through heck and back in high school, and I’d like to not go through it again). Small-town girl goes to a big university, middle-class and trying to keep up with everybody while maintaining a 4.0 that waved goodbye with my first astronomy exam. Sound familiar? Join the club. I can be president.

It’s hard trying to fit in these days. Like I said before, you have to have money, smarts and looks. Not all of us have that, but I know most of us have a great personality that shines through the dirt and grime…
…while others’ dirt and grime covers the glossiness of their hierarchal status. You know?

Bah, anyways kids, the moral of the story is to be true to yourself. Only God’s judgment counts, not everyone else’s. And if you’re cool with God, then everything else falls into place.

Like perhaps choosing the right major for you. Bah. Let’s not go there…

My how time flies. 1 a.m. and I have a 9:40 class….

Writing is addictive in the same way alcohol is. Tastes bad at first, but it’s an acquired taste.
Hmm… maybe that’s not the best analogy in the world… but it’ll do.

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